Pace Tua: Cursed
by SunstreakersGlitch
Summary: When Lily Evans has a dream she sets her life, and the life of Harry Potter, on a crash course with twisted destinies. Slash in the future, Death, Name-changing, abuse, gore Albus/Order/Potter/Lily bashing and NotSuper!Harry. 11/18/13 updating! I'm reworking all posted chapters then I will be putting up some new content. Sorry for the delay!
1. Left Behind

**Author:** SunstreakersGlitch

**Inspired by:** Death of today actually, and some good fic's, seriously some people are so very creative.

**Story: **Pace tua: Cursed- _With your consent: Curse__d._

**Warnings: **This will be slash/ man-on-man.

**Disclaimer: **Don't own, Don't want, Haven't stolen... So you can't sue.

Please review honestly and if you have any suggestions to improve my writing, share the love!

**The real A/N:**

So listen up guys, I started this story years ago and I haven't exactly been active on fanfiction lately, for all the time since an update posted I am sorry. I'm getting back into the swing of things but don't expect perfection. My first goal is to rework some story's with what I consider a good plot and make them something beautiful.

Some important points:

I hate Mary sue/Gary sue unless it's parody, so again, sorry if my Harry came off that way, I'm fixing it, promise, and on that note, Harry will not be super awesome or powerful, he's going to have human struggles.

He was originally supposed to be a mild sociopath, to give some flaws to work around, in the later plot that didn't work, sorry if personality changes aren't met with approval.

Thanks for reading still.

Updated 11/18/13

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><p>1980 was a dark time for the world of wizarding England.<p>

During the late 60's and early 70's many political evolution began, less were laws about muggle control voted on and more were muggles sympathized with by wizards. Wizards attitudes regarding them shifted from weary of the danger they presented to patronizing fondness for the ability muggles had to cope without magic.

This did not sit well with some.

England's wizarding society had long stood by traditional values, aging as slowly they did, change was hard to come by. The traditionalists began to form a harsher party to regulate muggle laws more stringently, adding in more traditional values such as anti-werewolf laws and reaffirming the honorable practice of arranged marriage.

The Party became known quickly as The Knights of Walpurgis.

As the 70's wound to a close many changes began to occur in the Wizengamont, England's governing body of wizards. Albus Dumbledore had stepped back into the political arena after his retirement from that life in the early 60's. Albus took on the mantel of Supreme Mugwhump, leader and deciding vote of the august body. He had noticed a disturbing trend of violent accidents in the members voting against the Knights, he noticed seedy deals and harsh demands and badly concealed black mail. The corruption deeply disturbed him.

Albus finally confronted a lone Knight who seemed to pull a majority of strings, Orion Black, and the confrontation that began a war ensued. Orion had intended to finish off Albus and be on his merry way home quickly. Albus had quickly subdued the man and questioned him ruthlessly on the aims and goals that became more and more sinister seeming.

At that first spark of violence the Knights sprung into action, violent attack after disturbing murder after vicious fight, it seemed never ending in the first weeks, and it just carried on from there. as the Knights rose to the fight a leader among them was becoming apparent. a charismatic man calling himself Lord Voldemort.

As the Dark Lord Voldemort was rising, the wizarding world was awash with uncertainty and rife with shock. Since Grindewald's defeat at the hands of Albus Dumbledore in the 40's the world had been at relative peace. It was an age of political power, not brute strength. In the interring years lazy wizards occupied the Auror ranks and took on the HitWizard role, ministers who worried of Ballroom dances and solstice celebrations held the office declaring the world at peace.

They were unprepared; they were not ready for another Dark lord. Some claimed the most famous of Light Lords to be among them in the form of Dumbledore, but that could not hold back the terror. People were panicking and fear rose in the air.

Everyone was on edge and one witch in particular was cracking from pressure at this development.

_She_ was prepared. She had known, the great Albus Dumbledore had told her himself in confidence, of the man Voldemort. She would be sure the war ended with the Light victorious, no matter the sacrifice and means.

Lily Potter sat with three other darkly robed figures hunched around a small bassinet in a dark muggle pub. The whole corner they occupied shrouded under privacy charms and silencing spells. The tiny child inside was almost nine months old but looked as young as a new born with the delicate porcelain face and miniature hands squeezing the crimson blanket around him. His thick dark hair was blending with the black pillow he rested on giving his skin a more sallow and sickly white tint than pale.

Lovingly the red-haired witch reached foreword to brush the midnight locks from the child's forehead, baring the marking of the dark ritual the four had preformed to make this child a being capable of surviving the coming storm that was war.

The lightning shape the mark took was abnormal to the blood ritual used but not something worrisome, what was problematic was the pulsating aura it gave off, clearly proclaiming it as a curse mark or blood mark to any with the talent to feel it.

The baby's thick lashes parted and his tiny rosebud mouth opened in a silent 'o'. The woman shuddered as did her companions as they caught sight of the eerie green orbs sparkling with intelligence back at them.

He was gorgeous really. Maybe it was mothers opinion she mused, but he was less fussy than any child she'd met His eyes were focused on all going on around him. Thick and already curly black hair so common among the Dark Purebloods.

"Do you see what we made him?" The witch whispered brokenly as she drew her hand back from the bassinet and the child.

At birth the baby's eyes, Harry he'd been then, just baby Harry James Potter, had been a deep blue, almost lavender, they had shortly darkened and in the months before the ritual had been almost violet purple.

Two days ago on the eve of his ninth month that had changed. The eyes had melted to a piercing green, eerily bright and clear. No hint of blue or gray clouded within the orbs to dull them to a more mundane hazel.

The figure sitting next to her twitched slightly before he could control himself. The witch caught the gesture and said dangerously, her own blue eyes narrowing "Oh _yes _Sirius WE have warped him and taken away his choices in life. Do not ever doubt that. It was all of us, and we share that burden" Her tone sharpened and turned more mocking as she looked to the other two silent figures.

"While you participated in the blood ritual and adopted him so carefully, making him your own son, he IS my child. I carried him for nine long moths and gave birth to him, held him in my arms and swore to protect him. This is not right, you know it and I know it. We...we k-k- did what we did and in doing so tainted OUR child."

She paused, the passion of her words still riding the air making the other three shift uncomfortable, before she went on subdued.

"James suspects something is not right. Dumbledore himself asked after his remarkable eyes just yesterday. Even trying to mask the mark on him was risky, with Dumbledore one never knows, but i suspect he's suspicious as well. I think our time with him is over."

Sirius hissed drawing back from the table and pulling into himself.

"So soon?" he asked in a whisper. His own silver eyes holding the child's green gaze.

The tallest of the cloaked figures laughed harshly, his silky voice snapping coldly "Black did you expect time to coddle our son with love and childish delights? To spoil and pamper him with toy broomsticks and playthings? No. Lily is right, the Dark Lord is rising, he hasn't presented himself to the public at large yet but the dark mark burns in the sky almost daily and the Knights are restless, it is best if we do this tonight."

Sirius hesitated, still seeming unsure.

"In case you have forgotten Black, two of us are _owned_ by the mad man. Do you want to risk the Child's life on a whim? You might as well cast the _Avada Kedavara_ yourself if we keep him near us! We are obvious targets in this Merlin blighted war." Severus Snape continued heavily.

Lily's eyes were bright and decidedly unreadable but she nodded, crouching to grab the bassinet and the silent child. Pulling out an empty plastic bottle from the depths of her cloak and placing it on the table. Holding the childs carrier close she murmured "Escape" as they all drew together across the table and touched it. The silent jerk of the Portkey pulling the five of them sideways through time and stole them from the muggle pub.

They landed heavily near the Leaky Cauldron, a highly magically populated part of muggle London. Both Severus and Lily kept their feet as they met firm earth once again but the other two men were sent sprawling, causing Severus to smirk and mutter about incompetent Aurors and Death Eaters and the future.

They didn't want to be seen hovering about and risk someone recognizing the odd group and were off quickly, moving towards the only building standing at the end of the most run down alley they'd ever seen. A tall and looming building made of harsh red brick and the words "Muller Orphanage for Youth" crumbling from a low hanging sign. The sign had the Five of them pausing and staring.

"Can we do this? Leave him and expect miracles when he enters our world again?" Sirius asked, more to himself than the others.

It was a pointless remark; they _would_ leave him, which in the end was all that mattered.

The baby might be the youngest and most innocent sacrifice in this war, but others had alreadysacrificed before him. Already the five, themselves, had stepped over lines they could never retreat behind again. The things done in this Child's name had tainted them and their souls to putrid black. All for a flimsy dream.

"His happiness is not our goal. Severus, You more than any other know the pain of a home not worth living in. Will it be too much? He won't have the chance of the others. He will grow and mature HERE. No one will adopt a child with Killing-Curse eyes." Lily asked in a dead voice, giving them this one last option for a token objection.

Her pain, suffering, love and dignity had all been striped away for the child she held. Never again would she be whole for what sins she had willingly committed. She would never be lauded as a hero and given an Order of Merlin, but this child was the future. Some may even clamor for Azkaban for her and the others. But they had done as no others could.

The price they had paid was willingly spent on the hope of the future of their worlds existence and peace.

Protecting him wasn't something she could do directly. Her husband felt the darkness leaking from his already strong aura. Her mentor and the Light Lord could see the murder in his curse green eyes. He wouldn't be safe around magic folk who could sense his wrongness. But if the protection of a Muggle orphanage wasn't worth the price at hand, would take him far from his path, she would be condemning them all.

Severus inhaled sharply through his nose. His childhood hadn't been a pleasant experience, but he had come out the other side remarkably whole for it. Surely this child wouldn't be faced with the animosity of Severus' own half-blood heritage. This place was filled with other lonely children and adults dedicating their lives to those left behind children.

His _son_ would be safe here until he began his magical education; this was a chance for him to be normal when he had been made and abomination in the eyes of most of society.

"Let us do this Lily." His voice was overly tender, too emotional, but she didn't comment. Lily's own tears had been shed the day she condemned her soul for the future of the wizarding world. She nodded and they all moved forward once again.

Sirius stood behind Lily with Severus at her side and the tallest figure hanging far behind the others. Lily knocked hard, three sharp raps, and braced herself for what was to come. The door didn't budge and no sounds were heard. Just as they began to wonder if they had come too late in the day the door burst open and a petite, plump, woman in her late twenties answered the door.

Her face was set in a soft smile, with sienna colored eyes revealing an emotion almost pity and halfway jaded regard, as though she knew the people before her and understood the sacrifice they had made. Her skin was the soft graying ivory of African descent by way of Ireland, with coarse black hair tight in a bun on her head. Her outfit was a simple pair of beige slacks and a white button up shirt, both looking worn and clean. While she was nothing to intimidate, the four of them were more than apprehensive, put on their guard by the air of understanding she gave off.

Lily was determined though. She stepped forward with a forced smile and clutched the bassinet until her fingers whitened with pressure.

"My son." Were the only words she could say.

It was all that needed saying.

One did not come to an orphanage with a child so young to leave with it again. Come to that perhaps the woman did understand their sacrifices, if not the magnitude.

She looked down and was startled to see the Killing-Curse eyes blinking up at her once more. Steeling her resolve she pressed the bassinet and its precious cargo into the young woman's expectant arms.

Severus stepped forth as the red haired witch turned and hurried away, leaving before she could take her child back. The other two crowded in behind him as he began speaking, both solemn and supportive, feeling the same keen loss as Severus and roiling with the burden of guilt that it was their own fault.

"Charlus _Eli_ Arcturus James. He was born July 31st in 1980. Mothers name is _Eliza_beth James, father unknown. He has no other family and _Eliza_beth is in an unstable condition."

Severus seemed overwhelmed by that small monologue and his own guilt beat at his heart and soul. He turned away quickly following Lily up the path to the apparation point, closely followed by a silent Sirius. Both fathers left behind the son whose tainted innocence was their only salvation, the only reason either could believe and strive for redemption.

The last man, the last blood-and-magic father stood at the door of the orphanage and felt a cold restricting band begin to harden around his heart. He was already a cold and jaded man. He did not believe in his redemption nor did he want salvation.

His tiny son was in that bassinet being clutched to the chest of an undeserving Muggle wench, the child who was almost a pure-blood scion of three noble and dark houses, with the powers of love and sacrifice warring in his corrupted soul. The four had gambled recklessly and were desperate for a hope that was unrealistic and years in the making.

His son,_ His_ son, who already had a visible aura to those looking, an aura thick as morning fog the same color as his _Avada Kedavra_ eyes, his powerful and dark son. Such power and nobility and purity, was his by blood and magic.

And he, the child's father, was a bloody coward.

Lily had made the three men promise a wizards oath before even beginning the plan that had ripped their scarred souls to shreds, an oath to never ask the orphanage to tell more than what Snape had recited, never ask them to deliver a letter and not have any purposeful contact with the boy until he re-entered the wizarding world.

Yet he _had_ written a letter.

It was short, uninformative, vague and obscure in the extreme. Alluding to power and magic, giving the reasoning behind all of his names but the last, touching on his own contributions to the boy's appearance and avoiding confirming anything.

But he couldn't do it.

Even as he stood thinking it he felt the tightness of the wizard's oath around his right wrist, three burning coils keeping him from giving his beautiful cursed son even the little comfort of a letter.

His veins were icy with guilt. The steel band that was cooling around his heart turned brittle and shattered piercing him deeply. He understood then. The killing, the torture, the pain and humiliation- Nothing. Not compared to abandoning the boy before him. He was changed and shattered. An already broken man, bound body and soul to a child that was essentially a weapon he'd created.

"No!"

The woman holding his child-HIS- called to him firmly just as he was about to walk away. The imprudent muggle bitch. She had the arrogance to call him back from his departure as she cradled that precious bundle to her chest? He almost drew his wand. Crucio might be a bit harsh for her minor sin, but a well placed _Maulitino_ might teach her to hold her tongue. He turned to do just that when her piercing eyes caught and held him enraptured.

"Give the son of the triad the letter you hold."

She said firmly, a quality in her voice sounding much like a command had his left hand moving down to his pocket and a growl on his lips.

"Triad?" he questioned softly, wanting her to do something, anything, to allow a hex or curse to pass his lips, satisfaction for the gift she had received unjustly in the form of his precious son.

"But of course, Son of Prince, Son of Black and Son of-"

He cut her off abruptly. "He is son of Four, not three woman."

His heart rate had picked up; he still had a heart after the icy betrayal that had shattered his very being? The woman knew something. The Sight was common among muggles and filthy squibs moreso than wizards, he shouldn't have been surprised, she looked at him the way Xeno used to when he had caught sight of something new, back before- _No don't go there_.

The woman laughed lightly. His patience was almost gone and since she knew about the world he came from anyway, the cool and familiar weight of his fourteen inch yew wand with its threstle hair core was tingling pleasantly in his hand a moment later. He gave in and growled an animalistic huff that conveyed how very far his lineage had given in to the madness they were born to. The Seer bitch's eyes never wavered their piercing stare even as his wand touched her throat.

With a careful smile she explained lightly.

"The woman chooses three men of dark and rebuffed the light in him at every turn. His once-father removed his heritage and you three Sons of Night gave him another. The flower was once pure and still held too much light, the Hope that you created is too dark for the sun she represented. He is Son of three. A Knight in the making, more pure of blood than he was born to. His soul isn't torn and tarnished as yours were in the process used to wrought yourself an uncontrolled weapon, but he was darkened. He'll lead a merry chase and birth the _Chant Du Mal Court_ and release a new wild hunt. Your hope will be the salvation you seek, but a blacker light one cannot find."

Though her words were not prophecy, he knew she was genuine, reciting all she Saw and Felt. He couldn't go on like this. He grabbed his letter of vagaries and threw it to the ground, jerking his wand back he disapparated in front of her and did not care to think upon it. When the crack from the man's leave settled in the air the woman picked the letter up and turned away. She had warned them.

She spared a glance down at the baby, Son of Three, Leader of Armies, Enemy of Light and Dark Lord Master of the Last Wild Hunt. His glowing eyes the exact color of the _Avada Kedavra_ curse were pools of understanding. His soul was a deep rich silver-green, surrounding him in a cocoon of power. He was already everything he would ever be. Through the spirals of time he had already done, would do, and was doing all he would ever accomplish or fail at.

The wizards thought the Lord Voldemort was bad? Cruel and wrong? The Light Lord encouraged the beliefs they held as well, courting many away from the truth, but the Son of Hope, this young man now called _Eli _could save the world. She closed her eyes briefly as she Saw and Felt again his pain, he would suffer, always suffer. The early years would be worst on him, eroding his innocence and destroying childhood. But it _must_ be.

she almost felt compassion at the thought.

She stepped forward and felt the world shift around her. She was in another, smaller, dingier room with dozens of beds, a few cribs unoccupied sat in a corner.

She carefully picked up the small child and placed him down in the tatty nest of blanket, stroking his forehead. The intelligent and tainted eyes floated closed as she lulled the boy to sleep. Leaving him here, in this new orphanage all the way across the country from the original one would stall them. The Threewouldn't find him until he entered Hogwarts, and by then, he would be a bitter boy lost and alone permanently. It would not help that his letter would be delayed and he would enter in his fifth year, not the first.

But if the Light Lord caught onto Lily's deceit too early the boy would be terminated and no hope would come.

Turning her back she left the letter with the child and melted away again. So much to prepare in the next fourteen years.

So little time.

But for now, let Voldemort have his fun and the Light Lord wreak havoc on the balance.

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><p><strong>StarGuide2013<strong>


	2. What is Deserved

**Warnings&Disclaimer:** First chapter lovers

Its going to be a bit long winded but after the interlude is over i think the pace picks up remarkably.

**A/N:**

Reworked 11/19/13

Not a lot of changes.

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><p><strong><em>Lily Potter<em>**

Lily did not feel an ounce of guilt as she told James their son was dead. She couldn't. Because it was **True**. She, herself, had killed the innocence a child naturally posses. The Potter part of the boy was gone the moment James, under the _Imperious, _declared him removed from the Potter line.

Harry and the James part of him were gone when he was blood adopted by three purebloods.

She wasn't sure if the other men understood though. Sometimes those who grow up with magic assume they know everything there is to know and don't bother researching spells and rituals at all. They don't seem to respect that magic can do _anything_. She had long suspected purebloods and even halfbloods were desensitized to some of the more reality bending aspects of magic.

The ritual they had preformed had been based on some particularly nasty rituals she had found in an lad Dark tome in Severus' home one summer. She had carefully reworked the spell and it's outcome to make sure the desired results had been accomplished. At the basest of it the ritual had been a crude power supplying blood adoption. She had used her skills in ancient runes and charms to make it much more.

The ritual removed all impurities of blood and took the joined essence of the three most powerful and skilled men she knew and remade the child as if he were born of their own flesh.

It ended with the boy having none of her left in him at all.

She could hardly call herself his mother at all, and certainly not by any blood line standards of the wizarding world.

His features had morphed into aristocratic sharpness common among noble family's. His eyes had taken the color of the sacrifice ritual.

His hair was the darkness of a child borne of the night.

He wasn't hers or Jamie's anymore.

His baby softness seemed to be missing, one dark auburn hair and striking lavender eyes were gone as well. She was glad sometimes that the boy was gone now, she didn't have to look into his strange eyes and see all that she had done anymore at least.

But it had left her soul broken. Something once as pure and light and airy as a cloud. Something she once debated the existence of with her family and church members. Now she knew that it was more real, less ephemeral than she'd ever believed. But not until it was too late, not until it was gone.

No guilt wasn't eating her alive, piece by piece. She wasn't concerned for her carefully choosen victims, men and women of the dirty streets of London. All had been worthless awful people. Rapists and thieves and whores and murderers themselves. Nothing in them redeeming at all.

No, Her soul was wrecked from multiple murders done in cold blood. The ritual _required_ no remorse for victims. She was having her soul carved at piece by piece with _self loathing_.

That she was wicked enough to murder. That she was evil enough to do _**THAT**_ ritual even though she knew and suspected the many unasked for consequences and side effects. She had sentenced her son to a life of dark magic and loneliness.

She abandoned him for his own good. She was as bad as Dumbledore and Voldemort together. Manipulating four strong men out of a child and heir to noble pure families. She was a temptress and taunter and she let it all happen.

And worse yet.

When her son received his letter at the tender age of eleven and went down Diagon alley, everyone would know. As he boarded the Hogwarts express they would look at him and understand. When Dumbledore saw he would act. He would take her defiance as what it was, a challenge to his abilities at stoping the war. James would be destroyed and all the boy's fathers would find out about the prophecies guiding hand in their lives.

And the worst of all Harry _was no more_.

Perhaps it was guilt after all.

Being devoured by depression and emotions so strong was wearing on her. Months after the loss of the child she was worn down and broken.

Her pale red hair was washed out and greasy, grey littered among the strands. Her pale milk white skin had thinned to tissue paper and was dyed with grey. Skin and bones replaced her once lithe form. Her sparkling blue eyes were dull and lifeless.

At the age of 22 she was dying and she knew it.

Ironic that all around her thought her death was out of heart break when in reality she had only hung on out of the heart break.

Soon she would die.

She prayed.

She did not deserve better.

But perhaps she deserved _worse_.

She wasn't talking of James. He was a rude uncouth prejudiced man. Even her love couldn't fog over his unattractive qualities. She couldn't let the savior of the wizarding world be affected by his attitudes, let alone her own son.

The boy had to be conditioned For what was coming.

So her biggest betrayal was not to her tiny infant son. She was simply honing him Into what he needed to be. He would be lauded as a savior in the end. Die a myths death and live a life of power. He would defeat the dark. _Decimate_ it really.

She knew that. In the face of his destiny it was of no consequence that he would not have a family.

She was not even upset to lying to Albus, her loving mentor. The man to draw together her and many others to for The Order of the Phoenix, the best damn chance the Light would ever have of holding their own. The man who had taught her the intricate scruples of being right in ways that could manipulate and save, all the while using others as pieces in her own chess game. She was after all doing it for The Greater Good, and he would see that when the Charmed letter she sent arrived on Eli's Eleventh birthday.

She couldn't be bothered by Albus' and James opinions when she had been lying to them for years, ever since her fourth summer at Hogwarts.

She was thinking of her ultimate sin, the ultimate treason by all counts. She had betrayed the three men who had helped her, given over all for her. Played so many dual roles and lies and spying games for her since her prophecy induced revelation that summer long ago. They had been closer and farther apart from her than anyone.

And she had _obliviated_ the three without thought.

She locked away all memories of them together, all the subverted years of hiding in Hogwarts, all the duality of their duplicities with the Dark Lord and the so called Light Lord. Locked away loves in two of them, locked away the depression resulting from refusal in one. Locked away their successor, because all three noble houses would never have another heir unless Harry- The baby was formally undeclared.

He would not be.

They didn't know he _was_. She had knowingly cursed three noble houses out of existence and betrayed a sacred oath she had written herself and signed in the blood of her alliance.

They would not remember, but they wouldn't forget either. She was a professional Obliviator at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; she knew the charm in all ways. They would always feel the aching loss of something, because it wasn't truly gone. More like hidden behind blood shields that would devour reversal spells and reject liligamancy.

And now she would die for her own duplicity.

Even with what would result, the withering and rotting away, the lingering years she had to endure, she had betrayed her words. Oath-Breaker would forever fallow her name in the wizard dealings she had to attend in her impending doom.

But she simply couldn't risk one of the men caving. Despite wizard oath's; they would mean nothing, eventually, to the men. Purebloods were of family stock. They would need to rescue him somehow. They would talk of him amongst themselves.

It was too much to be left up to chance.

And then once he was in their world they risked corrupting him from all of their own ideals and prejudices and possible dark dealings. One was a Spy for light and dark, painted black then white and black again. One was much too mentally unstable, deeply traumatized by blood borne insanity and the treachery of his family to leave him with such an inheritance. One was deep cover in Voldemort's inner circle and Brother-bound to his infertile elder who had married into insanity and taken to it with relish, he was utterly convincing because of his own taint.

The child couldn't be given to them no matter what.

No matter intent, no matter love, no matter duty, no matter prophecy. They would infect and influence him. The prophecy had been clear, do not allow him to enter our world before the magical age. So he would not.

So now she suffered from the written word of optimistic teens who would not trust unless under dire penalties. The boy's, her boys she could refer to them fondly, would probably not have recalled the words had she let them, anyway. The consequences of betrayal foreign to them as was now the concept of any other allegiance.

They had all grown so close, loving one another so deeply. Two discovering each other so thoroughly they had bound themselves in a marital union she had also forced from their minds. One betrayed by a lover and ensconced in love so deep he needed them to survive.

And her.

The center piece to the men so different. A seer by blood and a prophetess by chance. A confidante to all three. She'd not intended this betrayal, she'd neither Seen no planned it. So naively she had allowed herself to bring them close to her heart. Closer than the sister now lost to her. Closer than kind-hearted parents who could not relate. Closer than a beautiful man with a teenage mind and simpering Gryffindor ideals she had married. Too close for her heart to take.

But this was better. Already her magic had dwindled to a trickle; soon, if she did not undo her duplicity enchantments she would be unable, as the curse on their oath ate her magical core first. Then the Soul. Then finally the body.

_How did we know such things at such Young ages? _She could not help smiling fondly. Such distrust.

But she had managed. Bound the three together for eternity, as they had always thought.

No matter outside appearances.

_She_, a little lost mudblood who happened upon seer blood by some twist of fate.

She had wrangled in a childhood friend; a snarky nasty boy so thoroughly abused and disillusioned her heart hurt for him even now.

Took in a boy of the Blackest and darkest blood of pureblood society, descended from Mordred himself, steeped in madness of his line and his own Gryffindor nobility despite it.

And a boy who once would have thought nothing of slaughtering her parents and _crucioing_ her into madness, and never debasing himself to the level she was on.

Yes.

She _did_ deserve much worse then what she faced for all that she had taken.

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><p><strong>StarGuide2011<strong>


	3. The Years Between Part 1

So this chapter is what happens to that pesky letter, Green ink and lies in my opinion. Those lemon drops and twinkleing blue eyes are Evil, no light or dark about it.

.

**A/N: **

This chapter was reworked as of 11/18/13

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><p><strong>An interlude of sorts:<strong>

_**1991-**_

The July air was muggy and heavy with the presence of august lingering in the air. While august was sure to be the hottest month of the year, the last day of July was positively stifling. The red brick building with crumbling words slapped across it was covered in a haze of heat as the tall form of a woman made her way towards it.

She seemed out of place in the ancient and destitute area of outer London. Her clothing of choice on this particular day was a severe crimson dress with sleeves reaching her wrists and a hem touching the tops of her sensible brown shoes. She was obviously elderly, but moving with a grace uncommonly youthful. With her grey-brown hair pulled sharply into a bun behind her neck and the odd lines around her eyes and mouth though, she could have been anywhere between forty and sixty.

In her hand she held a small envelope, made of thick white parchment with elegantly flowing script written across it.

The letter was no ordinary missive, it was an acceptance letter. Its author the Headmaster of the elite school Hogwarts that specialized in Witch Craft and Wizardry. The woman's name was Minerva McGonagall and she was the deputy headmistress.

It was uncommon for her to find herself in the Muggle streets of London, but the letter she had was one of three that had already been sent. As no reply was forth coming The headmaster had asked her to see to the delay herself.

She knocked on the door that seemed to cave in a bit further with each tap to its frame.

It was only a minute before the door was opened and a haggard looking woman with a child on her hip Stood before her. She looked much younger in years than Minerva herself but stress beyond her age had weathered her features. She had mousy hair and large watery brown eyes.

Readjusting the child on her hip she shushed his whining before saying in a hoarse and quite voice. "What do you need Madame?" Minerva was surprised to note her voice was overlain thickly with a German accent.

Brushing aside her misgivings toward the whole situation Minerva began her duty, as she did every year. The singular duty of explaining to muggles about magic and how it was not a hoax, not a joke and_ to be taken seriously please._

"I am Deputy Headmistress McGonagall. I have not received notice for several letters sent to your establishment in the name of a Harry James Potter." She held out the copy of the acceptance letter as proof, least the woman deny the claim.

The woman's eyes darkened and she set the blond toddler down. She pushed the boy inside warning him to "Get to the kitchen right quick."

With a hard look at the witch the haggard woman step over the threshold and slammed the door back into its frame. Leaning against the rotting wood with features set in stone and her arms crossed in front of her thin chest she seemed to assess the intentions of the impeccably dressed witch before speaking again, the Accent she had even more pronounced with some emotion.

"Harry J. Potter." she began, tipping her head down and speaking wistfully

"I was the only one working the night they brought the boy in. He was tiny, barely looked his nine months. Beautiful though. I don't know much about it, beyond it was a small red-haired woman dropping him in my arms sobbing like the world had fallen from under her. Barely got out the lads name and begged me to take him. Wasn't the first woman to come knocking and shoot off like that, but the boy was so young. A quiet, peaceful looking little thing really.

Normally the mothers give birth to them here, or don't get rid of the young ones till they reach three or four. The young mothers just can't handle it you see, especially when they're as alone as she seemed that night. But that was the first and last night I saw that baby."

She stopped as if unsure what to say next. Minerva was highly unnerved as it was. Lily had been the one to come here it seemed, her mind was racing, but Lily hadn't... What of the dark mark burned hideously into her face? The blood shed been drenched in that night and the hysteria? Would she have given little Harry away? It could hardly be coincidence, guessing his mother was a tiny red-head. Polyjuice?

The woman began again, snapping Minerva's tumulus blue eyes back to the woman in front of her.

"I was the only person here that night. We had five kids. All of them over ten back then. Well behaved. Sweet and smart to. Why have to pay so many surplus nurses, and all that, right? Tight ass bureaucrats. So I went and found a ready-set crib with blankets and dragged it in one of the older boy's room.

Wasn't his fault. Hardly could have stopped it with that bloody bump on his head could he? But that was it. The baby was gone in the morning and Ralphie was in it something awful."

The woman's watery eyes seemed to liquefy ten-fold with emotion. Minerva was still in shock. Harry Potter, the prophesized savior, redeemer and public face of the light side, was gone. His Hogwarts letter was coming to a place he _was not_. And most horrifying of all Lily Potter was implicit in her son's missing status.

So many plans collapsing into one another. Years of waiting and questions worthless. Harry potter was not here. Hadn't been since the first night he'd been missing.

It was all the indignant woman could do to thank the strange woman before turning away to find the nearest ally to apparate away, a confrontation being her obvious intention. Albus would not be pleased.

* * *

><p>Staring after the irate witch the Germanic woman's appearance began to shimmer and melt into that of an Irish African woman. The building behind her dissolved as well, leaving her to turn and smirk at the image of a blond toddler In the ruins of an abandoned alleyway.<p>

The toddler opened his mouth revealing a grin filled with needle like teeth and he asked softly "Is she going to bop the Dumblydork a bad one? Make him hurt so bad? Is her Grizzy?" the soft tone and wicked words would have evoked a shudder in the most hard hearted person, but the woman called Grizzy merely smiled a soft smile and replied with her own disturbing tone.

"Oh I cannot say. I can tell you they will not bother with much else until dear Eli is revealed. We have years my little one, absolute _years_ before they find out and then it will all be too late!"

She squealed and picked the small creature up spinning him about until he hissed a harsh laugh as well, allowing a long serpentine tongue to caress his fangs.

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><p><strong>StarGuide2011<strong>


	4. The Years Between Part 2

So now it's time for a little Eli/Harry intro.

No one's mentioned it directly but some people seem a bit confused in their reviews about Harry's name and situation, allow me to explain. Potter was his birth name, when Lily used an unforgiveable to control James's actions she made him cast Harry out of the Magical Bloodline, effectively taking his last name away. He was named once by each of his fathers, blood-and-magic of course, as part of the ritual. Eli by Severus, Charlus by The unrevealed daddy and Arcturus in accordance with Black tradition. Lily gave him James for a last name out of guilt, her last kind act for his sperm donor daddy.

In reality, or the wizarding world as it were, his name is fully Charlus(Unnamed) Eli(Snape) Arcturus(Sirius) James(Lily) Black(Sirius) Prince(Snape's magical heritage) and Unknown as yet Dark Pureblood name.

If thats to confusing... well i'm referring to him as Eli to distance him from former Harry preconceptions.

Into the mind of my lovely. Don't worry about his push-overness right now, i promise one day he will be the epitome of Powerful/Dark Harry.

**A/N:**

Updated 11/19/13

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><p><strong>Eli's Beginning.:<strong>

_**1984-**_

It was his birthday, he knew that. He'd been told so by the lady with the smiling eyes. Three she had said.

She was a very calm woman, not overly emotional like the babies around him. She had the softest skin the color of tea with lots of milk. Sometimes late at night when it was the two of them in his small room, she would pick him up and wrap him in blankets and hum, holding him to her side.

Her hair was long and wiry, and her clothes were odd. Long flowing dresses and cloaks and tall boots sometimes. Other times she dressed like the sisters at the orphanage, rough wool smocks and a veil over her hair all in black.

Sometimes she appeared to him in the daytime as a big blond lady, with skin like his own but much redder, like she'd stayed in the sun too long. Her words were different then and her body much bigger.

But her eyes never changed. They were a warm reddish brown. A color he didn't have a name for. And her eyes... They seemed so much _more_ than the eyes of the others in the orphanage.

he asked her about it once, why her eyes were different. She'd smiled, seeming pleased that he was so clever to ask. She told him that it was because she was _other_ than anyone else he'd ever met. And that was all she would ever say.

When she looked at him it almost made him feel like the other kids didn't matter, just like she told him. The softest brown eyes burned him with a fierce happiness he _wanted_ beyond reason.

And her eyes weren't the only thing that made her stand out in his mind. She was so different from everyone else.

They all called him _boy_, or child. The adults at least. Some of the older kids called him a _freak_. He wasn't sure what that meant, not really. But when they said it they were pushing him into the dirt or taking away a toy he had recently found. They sisters weren't nice to him at all. They had so many rules, don't touch, don't eat, don't do this. He was forever doing things to annoy the sisters, like making noises or bleeding too freely from a scrape where he'd fallen to the shove of another child.

But the Lady with the Smiling Eyes called him Eli. He wasn't sure if that was his name or not, but the Lady gave him food and sang to him about beautiful places far away. She even let him eat, or come out of the cupboard when he was being punished. She was like a safe place to go and always there. It reminded him of something, he would always catch a glimpse, fiery red and cool black. A strange sense of belonging. But it was gone by morning as The Lady was long gone and he was left alone again.

_**1987-**_

"Eli?" The form of a small African-Irish woman called out softly as she stroked the cherubic cheek of the sleeping boy on the bed before her. The bed, much like the closet space it was in, were entirely too dingy and small for the boy, who at six was growing more uncomfortable in the room by the day.

"Eli" she tried again, careful not to jostle him. Startling him awake had led to his injury more than once before.

The black haired boy was startled and cried out sharply as his breath came in pants and he slammed himself as far into the corner of the bed and wall as he could.

The woman looked on sympathetically, so the boy presumed, as his bright-as-fire green eyes slowly let the fear leak out. "Another one?" was all she asked, not bothering to move forward or offer help in any way, he would not take it.

A jerky nod was his response as he worked his way out of the Cupboard, carefully maneuvering himself to not allow for touch, accidental or no. "Blinding green flashes, lots of pleas and the hysterical woman being held down by someone. Same."

The woman gave no sign of having heard outwardly, but inside she could feel an inkling of pride at the emotionless tone Eli's voice had whispered in and sneering disdainfully at the reference, wholly unknowingly, to the weak Lilly Potter. But the she refocused, the boy now walked in front of her and she noticed a faint uneasiness as he walked.

His gait was usually strong, while he looked down and was entirely submissive he usually held himself up better. He was walking with a distinct hunching of his shoulders. She struck a hand out and spun him effortlessly, looking to his chest. Rust colored stains were seeping at the worn white shirt he had buttoned up.

Whit a wave of her hand she vanished the shirt revealing the source. In bold shaky letters the words _don't tell lies_ had been carved into the alabaster flesh of the angelic six year old, with a depth and precision no _child_ could manage. He had his shoulders hunched almost sulkily so the cuts didn't stretch and tare the tender scabs.

The macabre words were carved one on top of the other, _don't_ situated right below his collar bone and _lie's_ touching the indent that was his navel. The letters were of uneven depth, but for certain they would scar, magic could not even seal them seamlessly.

Not that she would have offered.

Through the years she was quite pleased to note the boy was heartily neglected and actively abused, clinging to her nightly presence as a mother and savior. All she could have wished for and more. But the child was soft. He did not defend. He did not avenge. He would not manipulate and despite all attempts to draw him out, he would not question her use of magic.

But tonight, with this new development, this exposed venerability, maybe the last step in sealing his fate in hard hearted stone might be put into play.

She had never been a good actor so she conjured him a new clean shirt and said in the softest voice she could manage "Eli, when will this stop?"

She hoped the subtle reprimand would stick in his mind as the new day dawned. Maybe he would cling to the idea of ceasing the ill treatment in her name, a way to vindicate her life and her absence. He would certainly become a bitter hurtful young man with none to turn to. And she would be sure to manipulate as long as she could behind the scenes that he was indeed all alone.

She released him and began to walk away. Pretending not to notice as he took a few moments to come up beside her. In the periphery of her sight she saw his hand creep forward to clutch her own, she allowed the contact for a time, until the two reached the doors that led to the exit of the building, under the pretense of opening the door she jerked her hand from his.

Because he was useful she tolerated him. Because he was the future of her kind, she let things go. But this sniveling had to stop. He would be useless turning in the pureblood circles if he couldn't dance the dances with any skill.

So she would force him into a mask. If he couldn't fend off petty little muggles intent on belittling him how would he survive Against hardened, trained pure blood heirs? So she was justified by the _light_ even. After all, the circumstances as they were, he was a _dark_ wizard, she hadn't even had to corrupt the boy or force him to perform the soul spells To change his alignment. No his parents had conveniently given over their child to the dark before he had a choice.

He would grow into a scion of all that was dark.

Three Pureblood sires.

And all the power that had been forced into him through the Arcane Rituals that blessed him with the most deliciously _Avada Kevadara_ eyes.

Oh yes he was one of hers.

She led the boy on their usual nightly walk, down the twisted dirty lane unto the Childs play park for the orphans. He loved the rusted out swings. He never spoke of it but she knew he hated the other boys and girls for being allowed out into the world, allowed to play on the swing set. She had seen as much from his mind and her own observations.

The potential for hate was there, just buried. In any other circumstance she might have even admired his ability to persevere over the baser emotions of anger and hate.

The two would normally sit in silence him swinging and her leaning against the poleS of the swing. He liked silence, which was fortunate for her, talking would have been overly tedious. Normally reinforcement onto him that she _was_, was good enough.

But tonight she called out to her familiar. Tonight was the night for action. The boy would see her brutally murdered and tortured before his eyes, wander back to the orphanage and _hate_. Yes tonight was perfect.

Sitting on the worn out swing Eli himself was in terrible pain but he would never give up his nights with the Dark Lady, as she had told him to call her years ago when he realized what names were. He would be ok, the pain wasn't so bad. The words hurt worse than a fist ever could anyway. He did not lie. The Lady showed him magic every night! It was real.

But the Nun's had not believed him. The older children had hissed and called him a freak. They pushed him and dropped things in his way. They were cruel.

But when he was caught with a small glittering green snake curled in his palm that was the last straw. Sister Aggie had been furious. She yelled and yelled and raved about sinners and hell and the devil. He told her, he was talking to it, the snake was nice. It was magic.

And then she had told him to remove his shirt and stand very still or he would be in his cupboard without food for a month. He wasn't sure but he thought a month without food would kill him, as it was a few days left him weak.

So he stood very still.

Even as she came up to him with a very sharp knife. It had a glittering silver edge with a glossy black hilt. She began cutting the letters. She told him as, she carved the words, about how snakes were evil; the devil was a snake she said. He wasn't sure on the details of her words because he was distracted.

He was watching the slice the knife made into his delicate skin. How the blade parted his flesh and glowing rubies manifested cascading down his chest. The warmth of the sting that flowed right behind her work.

It was sick.

He _knew_ that. As much as a six year old boy could know anything of the world.

But he liked the sight.

He always liked blood.

And pain.

And screams.

Not his own, he knew that, and he knew that was wrong as well. He never caused others harm, not intentionally, but he liked what he saw when someone fell down, when they cried. It wasn't normal. But he wasn't normal. To this point he had always thought of that as a rather bad thing. But what if it wasn't? What if there was a whole world of people out there like him? That enjoyed suffering?

His pitiful musings' were interrupted when he heard a scream. Ironic that.

The Dark Lady was on her feet and she was yelling at a man who looked like what the sisters called a vagrant. He was dressed in scruffy nasty clothing and he had a knife too.

The Dark Lady looked scared.

"Stop! Stand back man! Stay away from the child! Hurt me not him! Please!"

It struck Eli that she was _defending him_. A warm rush flooded his body. No one defended him. But then he was lost as the man wacked her on the side of the face and laughed cruelly as she went down. The man fallowed.

Another kind of warmth flooed his senses as he watched the knife bury itself deep into the Dark Lady's' flesh. It was like the pleasure he felt riding him when Sister Aggie carved the words. but more. So much more.

The man made shallow cuts and carved at her face and stomach and legs. The pool of blood glittered around her in a circle of death. Her life, he thought absently absorbed in the man's work. Oh yes he liked it. Her screams had dwindled to quite wordless sobs. Distantly he was proud she never pleaded for her life. Only for his life.

And then it was over. The man plunged the knife, sharper, bigger, a better planed tool than the one used on him, into her chest. He stood and left. Eli noticed that. He was frozen for a moment, not sure what to do with all the sensations he was feeling before he shot towards the Dark Lady.

In the rush of joy he had forgotten somehow. Forgotten that she was his tentative link to reality and real joy. A shield from everyone that hated him.

She couldn't die.

He stopped at her body. He knelt shakily and looked in her face. Her once smiling eyes flicked a moment as they caught his and then they dimmed. He was conflicted as he registered that this was it, she was dead.

He felt a purely unadulterated joy as her hot blood soaked into the fabric of his night pants and thin shirt. Watched her soul go from the body. As he soaked up her utter helplessness and pain.

But he also felt despair. Loss. Loneliness. It wasn't surreal. He had known that she would go away eventually. She had said she wasn't going to be able to save him. He had just thought he had time. And now he did not.

He also felt some unfamiliar emotion roiling up in him. Something hot and burning, and icy and liquid at the same time. His veins were bursting with it. It held back his tears. He wanted the man who had done this to die.

He remembered the Dark Lady's last words to him.

"_When will it stop?"_

The words surrounded and inscrolled him.

_"Stay away from the child!"_

Stop.

_"Hurt me, not him!"_

It would stop now.

_"please"_

He was _different_.

He wouldn't let his Dark Lady's sacrifice be in vain, he would never forget this night. At six years old he made a vow known only to him in the heavy night air. He vowed that he would make himself worthy in the eyes of his one protector and friend. He would not let the others treat him like _nothing_ again.

* * *

><p><strong>StarGuide2011<strong>


	5. The Years Between Part 3

**A/N:**

updated 11/19/13

* * *

><p><em><strong>1991-<strong>_

Eli sighed with exasperation. Sometimes he truly thought hexing the bloody muggles into the ground was the only thing he would ever be satisfied by.

But then he would recall fondly The Dark Lady and all her death had given him. It was a warm rush of feelings he could only associate with magic. Magic that he had. Just him, all the other orphans were filth.

Below him.

Less.

He accepted the title he had once hated, freak, after all it was true.

He was a freak of nature.

Not natural in the non-magic view these filthy catholic muggle bastards had. They had thought to 'fix' him as they called it. But with the death of his Dark Lady an abyss had opened, pouring forth a torrent of ability's once hidden. So he took their words and twisted it to make him stronger. Used the hate to build himself up and played on it.

A week after the Dark Lady died he began to notice sometimes the colors and smells lingering around a few people visiting the Church or Orphanage, or just walking down the street. He also noticed that some of the things he could _do _that the other children couldn't.

Sometimes when they pushed him down, the ground was cushioned, in a deliberate sort of way even if it was asphalt. Sometimes when he was so scared and wished to go back to his cupboard where he was _safe_ he was simply there.

Other more mundane things occurred just as often. His hated, untamed mat of black curls were cropped more than once and yet...No matter what Sister Aggie did his hair refused to change style or length and while it infuriated The Sisters it made him giddy with power. To control even that one small thing about himself made him more than happy.

And one day, not a month after the Dark Lady died Eli saw one of the people with the pretty colors and strange smells _do something_ like he did.

The woman was indistinct to his childish mind but he recalled her aura and scent so clearly.

She was covered from head to foot in what seemed to be a thin film, like a full body glove. It was transparent and a rippling torrent of pale purple and ivory white fluctuating sporadically with different levels of glowing light.

Her smell was of peaches, thick and cloying almost too heavy to breathe around.

And then she waved her stick in front of a door and whispered "_Alohomora_" quietly. The door in front of her simply sprang open. All on its own. She was like him!

After that day he watched. The Dark Lady's death had given over the once slightly optimistic and, despite all the cruelty, Child like boy he had been to a child with a mind full of brooding anger and indistinct need to _understand_. And now this happening, this _revelation_, gave him something to focus on. It was outside the disgust leveled at him daily. It was different from the through neglect he had for years ignored. It was something no one else at the orphanage could take and corrupt.

He watched for months until one day he had a spur of insight. These people wandered yes, but they had purpose. They were going someplace. And he wanted to know where. It was someplace special.

So he followed them that day.

He hid in shadows and followed after one of the glowing beautiful people.

The man he fallowed was a tall blond with an aura the shade of the glittering grass snake that was the cause for the words carved in his chest, the smell that was drifting so enticingly behind him was a delicate balance of citrus and spice, something supremely unique. What had drawn him to the man was the uniqueness of him overall.

He was tall and blond with delicate features and haughty silver eyes. He was one of a handful of people with a single colored aura, and a complicated smell. He was exotic and Eli wanted to know where he was going.

His was mildly disappointed when the man when to a common pub. It was dingy and rundown but even so, many people with scents and colors came in and out.

The green man sneered at some who passed and nodded regally to others. Everyone seemed to clear a path before him. Fascinating.

Eli couldn't bear to let the man out of sight so he fallowed as stealthily as he could manage as the man waded the crowded bar room and down to a garden out back. The garden was fairly plain, uncommon plants nowhere to be found. Just disappointing everyday occurrences.

Until the man brought out the stick. It was a high glossed polish, ebony wood with fine grains and a tarnished silver handle. It would have looked like a girly artifact with the rose vine pattern, with the one fine rose and a single leaf and thorn reaching up past the grip, except for the obvious air of solid masculinity. And that stick glowed. Oh how it _shined_. It was beyond comparison with the richest metals, even the ever-bright aura's around the special people was nothing in comparison.

The man tapped a sequence on the solid brick wall at the back of the garden and a new world exploded into being. Eli's eyes were beginning to water and sting with the glows hovering all around the colorful alley way the man was exploring. And yet he was drawn forward. He fallowed further into the world of lights and beauty.

And that was the beginning of a whole new existence for Eli.

At first he just explored.

Took in the apothecary, lined with what he soon found were potion ingredients. Wandered about in the Magical Menagerie with the wild menagerie of exotic animals and birds, he spoke to some of the most terrific snakes and met creatures he'd read of in story books. He saw the wizard bank, run by goblins.

Wizard. That was what they were, they preformed _magic_.

He listened to gossip as women shopped for potion ingredients and debated charms. He found out about the Dark Lord and Light Lord, he wondered if they had something to do with his Dark Lady. He heard about the politics and the rational behind it all. He heard of Muggles, what they called the normal scum, and the purebloods, which were all magic.

And he wanted to know more.

It took months, but finally, after many a mishap; he stole enough money from the Sisters donation trays, the muggles on the street, and even other older children in the orphanage. He reasoned that they owed him after all, it was his right as a wizard, and they had tortured him. He then made his way to the goblin bank and traded the English pounds for galleons, gold coins, sickles, silver coin, and knuts, copper coins.

His first stop was a shop that sold the magical sticks, wands he had heard from a red-haired plump witch with an endless array of children and a loud mouth. The best shop was Ollivanders, so he went there.

An old man, owlish eyes and an expression of utter fascination who looked not at him, but around him. It took him only a second to catch on, he was watching the aura, the glow, Eli's magic. After discovering magic it hadn't' taken him long to realize why only wizards glowed, he was seeing the physical showing of each persons powers.

Eli was intrigued, of all the people he'd seen none had seemed to see like he did, even among wizards, but this man did. He'd never seen his own aura, and it worried him, he also wondered, what colors could it be? Was it as bright as some? Was he to dim to perform some of the daring feats of others?

So he did as any child would in his place, he asked.

"What color is it? Can you smell me as well?" Eli's voice was eager and excited.

And somewhere in the depths of the Department of Mysteries in the Hall of Prophecy a sphere shattered and a destiny was found as this one question changed an entire path set before him at birth.

The old man's silver eyes widened and he looked honestly shocked.

"My dear boy, whatever do you mean?" he queried in a tone that bordered on respect. Eli swelled with it. Finally someone who could see that he deserved it. So he treated the man as though he were on his level, something he would not dare do at the orphanage, with the filthy caretakers and muggle brats.

" Well Mr. Ollivander you have a kind of throbbing bright glow of canary yellow and magenta, it doesn't swirl like some peoples, but pulse's. It expands far beyond your body as well, I have found older wizards settled with their magic tends to do that." He stopped and considered the pungent scent thoughtfully. "I'd say your smell was that of old books and leather, but I can't be sure, it's rather musky though."

The man had taken a step forward. "Indeed my boy? You, can you see everyone's light?"

Again the respect was most gratifying. "Yes. Well, no, I can only see people's glow if they have magic, and I can't smell everyone." He considered that thought, but pushed it away for later, this man deserved his attention, plus he really wanted to know his color, and smell hopefully.

Taking a dozen steps behind Eli the man closed and locked the door, waving a hand and shutting the curtains as well, instantly Eli was on guard. Ollivander turned and smiled at him, looking in his eyes this time.

"Come, let us have some tea"

Eli was hesitant but he needed his wand soon, before he could learn really, so he followed. Keeping weary as he went of the older man who now had him alone, with no one to miss hi if he never went back to the orphanage.

He was led into a back room with a desk cover in feathers and wood chips. The man snapped and a platter with tea and another chair were instantly on the desk.

Eli sat gingerly and watched the man pour the tea. "My name is Augustine Ollivander. Call me Auggie please" Eli nodded, taken aback by the familiarity this adult gave him.

"My name is Charlus Eli Arcturus James sir, Call me Eli"

The man grinned widely showing more teeth than necessary.

"Now Eli, before you asked what I saw, and smelled when I was watching your aura. Do you know what The Sight means?"

The old man went deep into the world of new and exciting and _better _that was just for Eli. It was the beginning of the discovery of his fate.

* * *

><p><strong>StarGuide2011<strong>


	6. Strange as it seems

**Disclaimer&Warnings: **Same old same, Nothing is really happening at all right now i mean come ON, Eli is like 14! He had some nast experiances in the orphanage that might come up soon in flashbacks or whatever, but not much to warn you of lovers!

Ta Da!

The story has begun! Starting in Forth Year my lovers! read on read on! Eli explains stuff a bit, Dark Blood comes into play and coming soon - Spell work!

**Review my Ikkle tykes!**

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><p><em><strong>Homo sum, humani nihil a me alienum puto<strong> - I am human, therefore nothing human is strange to me _

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><p><em><strong>Eli-<strong>_

_**And the Story begins**_

_**1994 July 30th**_

Ollivander had given me so much, given me a chance at power, an escape from the humiliation of the muggles, trained me to be better and taught me all he could of the Wizarding world I would face.

Or so he was telling me. He had been creeping about the wand shop and the flat we shared above it for a week, after insisting this was the year I should finally attend the oh-so illustrious Hogwarts.

Despite all protests and miss-givings

After I met the man, Augusto Ollivander-Call-Me-Auggie, shortly before my seventh birth day, I never really left. The very same day I told the owl-eyed wandmaker his aura was Canary-cream yellow and Magenta I moved into his flat.

The man took me, an unnamed suspected muggleborn orphan just off the street, and named me apprentice as soon as was legal. He became my magical guardian and close friend, magical protector and instructor.

All because of a singular gift.

Nothing back at the orphanage was worth retrieving, I carried all and any possessions of any value with me, so I simply didn't return.

That very same night he set up a small room of Wizard-space just off of his kitchen.

The whole flat was a mirage of colors and objects with minds of their own, a couch who moved a quarter inch to the left every time someone sneezed, an old fashioned ice box that changed temperature daily and so many other entertaining pieces of furniture.

The entire first week I had a headache from the constant glow, even when I closed my eyes the lids glowed in a myriad of colors.

But I was enchanted. Finally a world where not only was I special and _appreciated _but everything around me was fantastic. I found all my dreams coming true as I was introduced and instructed in the ways of magic. Unicorns and Dragons, Wands and Wizards, it was perfection given form.

Auggie had decided that day to raise me as a wizard child, as his apprentice I gained notoriety where a muggleborn had none. Should I so choose I could take his name and family honor as a pureblood wizard heir in lieu of a blood son and Auggie fully intended I reach for the pureblood status.

He notified Hogwarts immediately and we began training and exercises within the month.

I was taught the basics of all walks of magic of course, Transfiguration, Charms, Herbology, Potions and History. Auggie emphasized many forgotten magics as well, Rituals, Medi-magic, Mind magic, Creatures. I learned languages, Latin as any pureblood should be taught, French and gobbledygook.

Auggie being a pureblood himself, if an ancient one, taught me all the traditions and etiquette I would require, as well as what was expected of an Heir of House Ollivander. We both knew I was more likely a Muggleborn or Half-Blood, but he insisted, going so far as to suggest I may someday be blood adopted.

Along with all of the accepted magics he instructed me in the Dark Arts, the Soul Arts. We had talked and explored my affinity and determined immediately I had Dark Blood. We then had assumed that I was a Half-Blood bastard from one of the Voldemort raids as Dark Blood is unique.

The formal term Dark Blood refers to someone directly descended from the time of Mordred and Morgan Le Fey and the odious Merlin himself. During that time there was a great upheaval and the magics granted to certain humans began to adapt into specific cores with certain leanings.

Fallowers of Merlin became adept at the shallower Arts, magics such as could be used without incorporating deep emotion and could be focused with simple words. Intent held no sway in these magics and all could learn without fear of corruption. From him was born Light Blood.

Mordred was a much more passionate and ambitious man. His magic adapted accordingly. Where Merlin feared corruption if intent and emotion effected a spell, Mordred recognized power. He choose to open his very soul and offer it up with each casting. Every healing charm came from the hearts sincere intent, every charm of destruction came from the deepest desire to destroy.

Merlin's and Mordred's ideals clashed at first, followers of both way's equally intent to prove they were in the right, but eventually a balance came in the form of Wild Magic. Those who choose Soul Arts became Dark Blood, and those choosing the opposite the Light Blood. Thus was born the affecting of affinity's.

An affinity is handed down by the most dominate ancestor and insures that the descendant, weather they chose so or not, are given the inclinations of their predecessors, allowing both schools of magic to live on.

However.

As with all Wild Magic it was a double edged sowrd.

Those of Light Blood found themselves going mad when trying to control a Soul Art. Those of Dark Blood were simply unable to cast even the most basic of Light spells. The Light Blood were forced by an insatiable desire to breed and the Dark cursed with the limits of one healthy child every generation or so.

The animosity was spreading and both sides were frothing with the need to prove themselves better. Lords were being established and battle lines drawn. When the dust settled Mordred was gone, feared dead, and Merlin set himself up as emissary and advisor to the King of kings.

As is so often the case when the Dark Blood lost their place in history was distorted as the victor figuratively wrote the text books. During the years of Arthur the Dark Blood became oppressed, feared and hated. By the time Arthur had died and Merlin retreated from the world it was to late.

A new era was dawning and the Dark found themselves in hiding for the better half of a millennium. Dark Lords and Ladys came and went, sometimes holding a tenuous position of power for a decade or so before the Dark was brought low again. But in the end none could change such an ingrained way of life, the spare few Dark Blood's opposing the popular Light Blood were pushed away as chaff and, with evermore muggleborns(Having no affinity and being lower than dirt in Dark Blood's viewing), Soul Arts were named illegal and all practices condemned.

So I was taught secretly to control my birth right.

Auggie explained the political climate, the war between muggleborns and The Dark Lord, the Righteous Order, and Dumbledore. Auggie was a firm Dark supporter, but was by no means a deatheater, he encouraged me to read and form my own opinions.

I saved for weeks from my apprenticeship salary to visit Flourish & Blotts. I bought books on Affinities and blood and muggle integration. I compared sources and took notes. I read _The Daily Prophet _and _The Quibbler._ I sought every book on Merlin and Mordred, venturing even into Knockturn for obscure references.

It took me almost four years to decide, but it was obvious really. Light aligned, Neutral(Having parents and ancestors so muddled in Dark and Light Blood no affinity was obvious) and Muggleborns(Oppressed and detested by Dark Blood) did not accept Dark Blood wizards. If I were to side with Dumbledore and his Righteous Order I would be forced to hide my affinity or never practice my magic again.

Impossible.

Dark magic made my core sing made me feel alive. Every spell cast from the smallest cutting curse to the _Avada Kevadara _gave me an indescribable thrill.

My decision was met with a quite smile that assured me Auggie had known before I had my decision, I sometimes wondered if I had held off on the Dark Arts lessons, until I made my decision, if it would have been different.

When I chose the Dark Lords side in the maelstrom of confusing and redundant battles, and there for the Dark Blood, Auggie decided not to send me to Hogwarts, _ever_. Not even for my OWLS, not for my NEWTS, as any other apprentice would be. I was to go to the Ministry and test their in the appropriate time-frame.

Dumbledore was gaining to large a following with the war still raging full throttle.

I hadn't argued.

Auggie had told me tales of the formidable battles and duels of the man who destroyed Grindewald single handedly. He spoke of the man's _Liligamens_ skill, my own poor _Occlumens_ skill could hardly challenge the legendary man or hope to conceal my leanings and secret's. He told me dark things about the Righteous Order and the leaders evils concealed manipulations. The man was a genius and cunning to boot, though when asked how he came by the information Auggie was frustratingly vague saying only "Know thine enemy"

No, No privacy would be afforded me under the boot heel of Albus Dumbeldore, Legend of the Light.

And _now_ he had changed his mind.

He had called out casually as I left for Flourish & Blotts one Monday morning that I should pick up the fourth year Hogwarts books. Needless to say I had not taken the advice well.

My very life would be forfeit if I waltzed into enemy territory so casually. Practicing magic as I had, using curses and rituals on living beings, would be a death sentence. I had yet to use an unforgiveable but not all dark magics were so notarized and I had by far done enough for a sentence unto Azkaban.

At the least the man-who-was-good would call me to his office and proceed to brain wash me.

He would call my choices wrong, patronize me and mother-hen me until I admitted maybe I was a bit to over my head controlling persons with the _King's Voice curse_. He would disdain my uses of _Reduceous Amor_ to stymie and ignite lust in others.

He would condemn my choice to leave the orphanage and threaten Auggie's safety because of my mindset of murder with no compunction. My disdain for filthy Muggles and dislike for Mudbloods would be noted and I would be questioned until I reformed to the light side. Or disposed of should I prove strong willed.

Unbearable.

And now after a week of his cowardly scuttling he had decided we had to talk about it.

Sitting across from him in one of our two dinning room chairs he looked older than ever. His deeply lined face, large world weary silver eyes, a soft grey halo of hair. He sighed, almost in a resigned way, one steady hand coming to smooth over his face.

"Eli I would not ask you to go if it were not important." He began his mystic voice strengthened with his resolve. And suddenly I knew I would be going. If he had made a casual reference to his wanting me to go, I would have pushed it aside. If he had demanded I go, I would have blown up shouting and conniving my way into staying.

After all I did not need to be around inferior students, Light wizards, Mudbloods and pathetic Dark children. I did not need incompetent teachers struggling to keep a classroom full of belligerent teens on the same level. They could give me no real training, not better than Auggie. They could give me no better companionship than my cat Gothos. Hogwarts would only cause me trouble, a meddling mad man for a headmaster and a million other problems.

But Auggie's voice was firm and his words not demanding.

I interrupted his next sentence before it began. "Why?"

My aquiesance was assumed from the way his face lit up, some of his otherworldly appearance picking up and a slight magical wind twirling about his wispy hair and tugging his clothes.

"So glad you asked Eli! Why it is a year of opportunity! It is the year of the Tri-Wizard tournament! The Ministry decided to restate it this year, with same new restrictions you know, but all the same! Marvelous chance wouldn't you say boy?"

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><p><strong>StarGuide2011<strong>


	7. Wonders Never Cease

**Disclaimer&Warning:** Won't be found on this chapter, seriously, shouldn't you already know this stuff? I think i was pretty clear my lovey's earlier.

**Rambling: **In which you meet key player in this drama, the story doesn't move much, It's basically the train ride and not much else. Could i do better with the twins? Do you get the eye discription thing or is it crap? Should my story continue? Ready for the next greatest chapter?

Read on Buttercups and Muffinlovey Ducks!

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><p>I'd always thought it curious of the administration of Hogwarts to transport students to an <em>unplottable<em> school on a glaringly red train, a practice only instituted in 1904. Not only that but the station where the train rested was placed in a relatively unconcealed location, a simple solid glamour, in the middle of a Muggle train station. Most European wizard schools use Port-key, Floo's and send a teacher for the rare-few accepted muggleborn students attending.

_Before._

That was the key word after all, before. Before finding myself stranded in Muggle London. Before forcing my trunk through the crush of the crowd of sweating muggles.

Before I couldn't find the _Merlin damned platform entrance_.

At this moment the Hogwarts Express and its location were nothing short of a source of extream aggitation for me.

Over the crowd I saw a mass of towering red-heads. Noting the trunks the two youngest where dragging behind them, and the grey owl that looked beyond his carrying years, I fallowed them as closely as I could in the crowd. I caught bit of the words the dumpy elder woman was shouting at her children and barely contained a snort.

"Packed with muggles every year. Can't get anywhere – Merlin ron hurry!"

Statute of Secracy indeed. The woman was as discreet as a rampaging Basilisk.

I watched as the six redheads passed through the barrier, the platform between 9 and 10 incidentally, and fallowed as soon as I was sure they were beyond the exit.

Managing to haul my luggage onto the train was a feat without the aide of my magic. Obviously I needed to become better prepared, I should have shrunk it, or cast a Featherlight charm before I left Auggie's this morning.

On the train I noted about six empty compartments. Locating the one nearest the front of the train cars I take a seat, shoving the stupid trunk in the corner, no way was I trying to heave the bloody thing onto the Luggage rack above my head.

Just as I was settling down and adjusting myself for a long comfortable ride of silently staring out the window, the sliding door's metal shell rattled….. Oh fuck.

Whit an ear shattering slam it was forced open and two gangly red heads, mildly reminiscent of the idiots at the barrier, fell in with a tall black boy following shaking his head. The red heads were collapsed in a pile on the floor but the black boy had frozen in the door frame when he caught sight of me.

He was tall with Honeyduke chocolate skin. Thin tiny cornrows hung in braids almost to his waist wrapped in bronze wire. He was clothed in midnight blue robes, so dark that if the folds didn't catch the light you couldn't distinguish the blue. The cut was a sharp a-line from the belted torso and clinging to the muscular chest. The buttons and belt were platinum and completely fastened all the way to his collar bone.

His eyes gave him away even more than the fine clothing and regal facial features. They were solid crimson. The only African family of Purebloods with those eyes were the Neti tribe near Egypt.

He coughed and looked away from my gaze and I sighed internally, deciding to ignore _that _conversation for now I examined the three of them more closely, looking at the Aura's around them.

The two were obviously twins, the lay still on the floor giggling helplessly their red pony-tails caught on one another. The matching Aura's of twins were so rare to me I was almost excited. Their Aura was spread wide from their bodies, not nearly so far as Auggie's but further than normal. The silvery blue shade was perfectly even throughout and it almost seemed like their Auras were not touching, but connected and moving _together._

The Neti tribe boy's Aura wasn't a surprise, the exact color of his eyes, a thick and murky shade of red. His power was almost even, therefore the distance from his body it spread, with the twins. Though where theirs seemed to move at lightning speed so it almost vibrated, his was casually moving in a cylinder around him. contained energy.

"Ah- Uh, we, we normally sit here, we didn't know anyone would be here. I mean. Er… Gred, Forge, let's go guys." The comical sight of the powerful, tall, Neti boy stuttering at the sight of me almost had my teeth grinding. Irritation taking hold quickly.

The twins stopped laughing and suddenly two sets of huge blue eyes connected with mine. Twin gasps and seconds later all three of them stared in mutual terror at me. It wasn't new.

One of the many things I'd learned about upon my introduction to the wizarding world and Auggie was eye-color distinction. The best of the Light Bloods have eye colors of Gold for phoenix flame, and Blue like ice for healing and the very worst of the Dark Blood's have eyes of Black for Fyndfire, and Crimson for blood. The eye color thing has apparently been around since Merlin and Mordred.

When witches and wizards began distinguishing themselves as dynasties and Blood's they began experimenting. Some rituals used on babies just born to the family introduced special abilities like Animagus forms and Metamorphagus talents; others simply killed the children they were used on. The colors of certain children's eyes changed when they underwent certain extreme rituals of Light or Dark, usually the ones involving blood, life or death sacrifices.

My own eyes are the exact shade of leaf green a killing curse would appear to spell-sight. While most wizards and witches can see the color of a spell as it comes out of a wand, or as it effects and object, not all can, and some lose the ability as they grow older. No one _doesn't_ know the color of the killing curse though; it is the boogey man, the nightmare of the whole magical world. It has no defense. It has no counter.

It is permanent and unequivocal death to any living thing.

The killing curse eye color never came from any bloodline in the entire magical world. If someone had eyes in any shade of green, they were muggleborn, simple as that. Green was a color no wizard blood accepted. And my own eyes were unnaturally green; they glowed with the obvious coloring of wizard or magical blood.

It was unacceptable and spoke of Dark evil rituals fueled by many foul sacrifices of life.

Naturally it inspired fear and wonder in those who saw the color.

Auggie explained this to me, and the fear it inspired, when one witch had fled the shop in horror, dragging her daughter away without a wand. It was about a week after I had moved in with him and it had upset me somewhat, thinking even in the magical world I was a freak of nature.

But then Auggie went on to tell me his own thoughts.

"My boy, you are the only magical person I ever met with eyes the color of the killing curse, but I was not shocked by it when I saw you. I didn't run. Bloody Merlin boy, I asked you to live with me! Don't you want to know why?" Auggie asked in his thick voice, to chocked up to respond verbally I nodded.

Auggie dropped to his knees in front of me then. Ignoring his fine robes of acumatuala silk, ignoring the dust on the floor and ignoring the pains of old age as I knew now, he knelt in front of me. Placing a finely wrinkled brown hand on my shoulder he squeezed, making me forget about not meeting his silver eyes with my cursed ones.

"Your eyes are unnatural."

My eyes began to sting and he hurried on, squeezing me again.

"You were obviously placed under a ritual, from the days of Merlin, and you survived. That ritual gave you power boy and you are absolutely, no contests _the_ most powerful being I've seen in all my years.

Whatever ritual it was, be thankful.

Even if someday people point, and stare, and wonder. It doesn't matter. Know that you are above them; you have had magic literally pulled from the world and ingrained in you. Back in those days, you would have been one of the honored chosen. Just because you have the Darkest cursed eyes in the whole world doesn't mean you should hate them, don't be embarrassed by a few petty fools who wish they had your power.

Love it my boy, love it."

I never cried after that day. His words had finished the job my Dark Lady's death had started. I was powerful. The orphanage was behind me and none in my new magical world was going to make me feel like I did there, curse eyes or no. I wouldn't let them.

Still, sitting here in front of the first people I've met my own age, I can't help but feel a bit self conscious.

One of the red head twins broke the silence. "So, what's your name? I've never seen you before and you're a bit-"

The other twin took over from there "Big to be an ickle firstie"

I was taken aback by this. They wore identical smiles showing perfect white teeth, standing properly I could see they were taller than the Neti boy, pale white skin and far from gangly. Strong chests covered in lilac robes of the same style as the other boy's, but with turquoise buttons and not belted.

I was a bit ashamed of comparing them to the obviously worse-off red-heads I'd encountered earlier; they were much more attractive and clothed decently. But mostly I was more in shock. I looked at their eyes again; they were still Icy Light Blue.

Dumbfounded I answered as coolly as I could. "I'm Charlus Eli Arcturus James. Entering the fifth year to take my OWLS for apprenticeship."

"Our age? Hmm you look a bit small…." One of the twins trailed off squinting at me.

I glared and my voice came out steely. "If you must know, I'm only fourteen, but my guardian thought it appropriate to get them done this year."

I didn't mention I'd never planned to enter Hogwarts, never mind earlier than I had to. Seeing their affronted expressions I backed down a little, unconsciously coiling my magic closer to me.

I really didn't want to alienate people my own age, possible housemates, so early before I knew whether they might be useful or not. I tried again before they could leave.

"Well you can call me Eli." My voice subdued and I looked back toward the window, watching the green hills roll by and flashes of trees here and there.

"My names Lee Jordan."

My head snapped back around at the deep voice. The Neti boy looked a bit more comfortable, edging more in the compartment, like he might stay.

His voice broke the dam of tension and the twins exploded into motion almost dizzying. One boy slammed the compartment shut and the other twin dived into a seat across from me grinning ear to ear again. Lee took the seat next to me, leaving the other twin next to his brother. The twins shared a look and then began talking quickly.

"I'm Fred. He's George."

"But call him Forge, and me Gred."

"Were Prewett's by blood-"

"But not birth."

My eyebrow rose at this, the Prewett's were as dark as the Ollivanders and Malfoy's. These two must think me an idiot to believe that with their Light Blood eyes.

Lee must have caught the look because he spoke up.

"Don't let the eyes fool you. These two are adopted, by Fabian and Gideon themselves. Their mum was a Weasley by marriage-"

The twins took over the story from there, the one called Forge anyway, they didn't switch off talking as before.

"Aye, we were born to Molly and Arthur Weasley. The Fourth pregnancy of Six, only twins in the lot. We got the Weasley Blood eyes and not much else. We have Dark Blood features; our hair is too dark our skin to pale with no trademark freckles, our features to refined for Weasley Blood. Mum and Da were ok while we were young; after all we had the eyes, so what if we took after the Dark family?

But then our first year we met Lee. Straight off friends. We'd always been mischievous, turned our brothers teddy into a spider, messed with the ghoul in the attic. But five minutes with Lee and we had reeked all sorts of havoc.

When we Lee got sorted he went to Ravenclaw, we thought we'd lost a friend, after all Weasley's go to Gryffindor." Here he paused and I nodded, it was true. The Light Blood Weasley's are always Gryffindor no matter what family they marry into.

The other twin picked up from their when it seemed Forge wouldn't go on.

"Well when I went under the hat I wasn't even nervous. McGonagall called me up and the hat fell on my head. It took a second but I knew something was wrong when it spoke in my head instead of aloud. It said "George Weasley, but you aren't are you? You're no Gryffindor and certainly not a Weasley. Now don't be scared, you're fit for a Dark Blood house, Slytherin for sure, maybe Ravenclaw." The hat paused and I was panicking, what if Forge _didn't_ get in one of those, never thought of what the hat said meant, beyond separating us.

But the hat caught it. It started talking out loud, shouted at McGonagall "Give me George Weasley I say! Alphabetical!" Well Fred looked confused and Professor M looked pissed. She took the hat off and made me stand to the side while Fred put it on." He stopped and looked at Forge.

"I put it on and all it does is ask me, Ravenclaw or Slytherin? Well Lee went to Ravenclaw so I automatically picked that house, right?"

Gred started again. "When the hat was on me again he sorted me straight to Ravenclaw.

We had a great year, pranking and learning the castle and even enjoying our classes, with the brilliant minds we had in our classes how could we not? We didn't even notice our two older brothers, the only others in school Percy and Charlie avoiding us. Didn't miss the letters from mum, Gideon and Fabian and Uncle Bartlett were always sending us letters and sweets and never mentioned them either.

It wasn't till we got to the train station the last day of Hogwarts we realized something was wrong. We had just said bye to Lee and were dragging our trunks to mum and da, when da stepped up to us and made us stop.

He looked both of us dead in the eye and said "Bone of my bone, Blood of my blood, Flesh of my Flesh, No more. House Weasley has cast you to stand alone." ''

My gasp was hardly audible but my eyes were wide in obvious shock. Severing children from your House, even the deformed and squibs, was rare because not only did it cut off the line of succession, it permanently removed them from the family vaults, their hearts and even that soul connection family's tend to have.

Gred went on.

"We both felt this tearing deep inside, like something was broke, you know. Both of us fell down on our arse's hard and we watched. Mum was hugging Percy crying, not looking at us, Charlie was shaking his head but da was walking away.

They left us there in that train station. Never said bye or gave us the stuff we'd left at the house"

"Not that it was much" Muttered Lee harshly.

Gred and Forge smiled slightly.

Forge took up the tail end of the narrative.

"Well when it got dark, about four hours after they all left the station, Fabian and Gideon showed up looking angry. I was afraid we'd lose them too. But they walked right up to us and kissed us both on the head and told us to come on home.

The next day the Goblins had Blooded us to them and we became Fred Fabian Prewett and George Gideon Prewett. Turns out The two of them were bloody Slytherins!" He laughed and the tense atmosphere of the room was broken.

"Now they haven't stooped so low as to talk to any of the Weasley's since, a good five years." Lee smiled at me slightly, a glint of true humor in his deep scarlet eyes.

"Nope, Bloody Ronald-"

"And Ginerva-"

"Tried to get us to resort their fist day's here."

"Just stood there and looked over their heads"

I grinned and decided to share some with these three, they were Ravenclaws and Dark obviously, and I knew from Hogwarts a History the train cars were individually privacy warded from staff and students.

"My name is true. I am Eli James. I am also the Heir of House Ollivander." I speak lowly. Watching their faces intently.

The Prewett's drew in equal breaths of realization but Lee seemed unsurprised.

I raise an eyebrow at the exotic boy and a small smile curves his perfect lips. "You carry yourself well and ask no questions. Your robes are also about three seconds newer than our own." He smirked when I glanced down.

I did look the part of Heir. My robes were peridot green; a silver tarnished antique belt slung low on my hips was embedded with chips of jade. The robe was full length but hung open from the hips upward exposing my soft grey undershirt. The shirt it's self had a lace neck loose enough to expose the hollow of my throat where a simple round jade nestled hanging from a silver ribbon. My hair was in a fashionable, barely to my shoulder blades, braid. And most telling I had a simple cuff on my left ear in platinum, on the unexposed inside the words "Lusus naturae" in an elegant scrawl.

The cuff spoke of Dark or Light Blood. Only the owner and the crafter know the words of Latin hidden in the cuff, for it was never removed. Sometimes the words were shared, but only among the like-blooded. His own words were or the House he did not know and for the truth in the words.

Looking at Lee the boy smiled and tucked an elegant braid tied with bronze cord behind his left ear. The cuff was made of ivory or bone with gold inlay, a testament to his culture.

The twins just turned their heads in unison to the right.

"Our cuffs had to be changed when we were adopted." Forge said happily.

"Yup, Ronnikins and Ginny have stone ones!" the other added gleefully. And they were right to be proud. Their cuffs were made of a tarnished copper metal, seemingly worthless, but I could sense the magic.

"Magical creature?" I asked attentively shifting a bit to get a closer look.

"Chimera!" they shouted together turning back to me.

I smiled and began to ask where they had gotten the blood solidified at but the compartment slammed open before I could.

The three of us turned to face the three boys in the doorway. They had stopped moving, stilling in shock, when my cool gaze lit upon each of them. One was ebony colored and of such princely features I almost looked at Lee to see if they were related, his eyes however were a soft hazy brown. One of the other boys was tanned with a dark flop of hair on his head, and dark almost black eyes. The most noticeable was the pale blond in the front.

His head was tilted high with a stubborn set to his jaw, check muscles clenched and light pink suffusing his milky skin. He was tall, taller than I at Five two at least, but didn't compare to Lee or the twins. His hair was platinum and long and flowing. He'd already changed, as had the others, into the conforming black of school robes, all three bore a Slytherin crest of green and silver.

His eyes were magic though. The silvery grey color animated with sparking magic. The sliver eyes flashed above his face equal part fear, and defiance.

I smiled. The twins rose and bowed, Lee nodded deeply.

The blond nodded as well but none of the three could move their gaze from my own sickly green eyes.

"Hello, my name is Eli. I'm here for my OWLs. Who are you?" I deliberately skimped the pureblood dance of greeting, smirking internally as the boy's lips twisted in a sneer.

Lee twitched in ill concealed mirth as the boy spoke.

"The name is Malfoy, Draco. Don't speak it though mudblood." His voice was biting but the words held no heat as he finally looked away from me.

To Lee he asked politely and gravely.

"Jordan, May we join the four of you?"

He had assumed Lee was the eldest and the most notable House. I widened my smile as Lee turned to me and spoke clearly – after my nod.

"Heir of House Ollivander, Would you allow Heir Malfoy, Heir Zambini and Heir Nott to join us?" his tone was even but his red, red eyes sparkled with the laugh he was holding down.

The blond gasped as I gave the shallowest nod. Our family, the Ollivanders I mean, was on par with the Malfoy's in Dark Blood ancestry and money status.

The all three made themselves comfortable and we found ourselves chatting amicably enough, the rest of the ride being uneventful. As the train slowed to a stop I smiled at them all and stood. "Shall we?" I asked.

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><p><strong>StarGuide2011<strong>


	8. Horseless carriage

**Disclaimer && Warning: **Not even optional. Nothing big to warn of.

**Speaking to you: **Soooo I'm kinda sorta super late and all. But i have an excuse. I no longer have the internet at my house and i'm stealing from the library right now. Sorry.

**Da Storeh: **Eli makes some buddies, er a buddy. A Seer is involved and the lovely horse-beasts of death. Do you think the messengers of the Apacolyspe would ride a threstle? It does have a lovely ironic ring to it. Tell me you love me, or hate me, my writting the twins and my lovely Luna Lovegood?

**Read and Rate lovey!**

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><p>Hogwarts was a beautiful building. Even in the photographs I'd seen of the place it was unique. But he reality was more than stunning.<p>

The towering castle walls, the turrets and the towers. All made from magical stone, something crossed with granite and black marble. In every window, lit up in the gloom of the fading day light, you could see the glow of hundreds of hovering fairy lights.

With a stone courtyard edged with magical shrubbery, directly in our line of sight down a straight cobbled path. In the distance I could see the faint outline of greenhouses and a cottage along the edge of the woods.

The wood and the lake, two of the more notorious magical habitats for some of the greatest creatures in the wizarding world.

The Forbidden Forrest – wizarding imaginations are just limitless that way – was the location of the last known Golden Snidget sighting in the 1700's, ironically it was a student sentenced to serve detention in the woods who'd seen the illusive create. The woods were populated by equally stunning, if not quite so rare, magical flora. Those woods were a dream come true to any Magical creature specialist with their Faery Rings and Centaur hoards, and for Herboligists as well, Auggie had once been permitted to acquire Cypress wood from one of the trees there and commended it highly.

The Black Lake was equally impressive, if not as showy. It's surface was gleaming like a darkened mirror, a flat sheet of midnight water stretching from the Hogsmead station to the campus broken only by the rocking boats that rested against the pier. Beneath it's still surface lurked Grinidilow, Merefolk and even the mythical Giant Squid.

In my own magical sight it was almost painfully illuminated. The stones, the gates, the grounds, the forest edge. Wards and Charms and innate protections woven into the very fabric of the place. The air was almost alive with the currant of humming power concentrated here.

All of it was glowing more than the Alleys with the hundreds of shops and wizards preforming spells by the minute. It could not even compare with the amounts of magic I had seen since I was a child.

I could see the magical signature of hundreds of Headmasters and Headmistress' mingling with the protective wards. I could see the original ward builders faint magic trace, and the stone masons, as well as all renovators over the years.

And faintly, ever so faint, I could even see the founders. The glorified Hogwarts Four, Rowena Reavenclaw with her sharp wit and thirst for knowledge, Helga Hufflepuff a loyal girl with a penchant for hard work, Godric Griffindor the bravest knight of an age charging to battle with half cooked plans, And Salazar Slytherin the most cunning and ambitious who left the castle in a huff before it was finished because no one wanted to play his way.

Honestly he couldn't understand why he wasn't taking his OWLS at Durmstrang, there at least he could test in all the subjects he had studied. The Housing system of Hogwarts was outdated and prejudiced and he was ill suited for every house. Not to say he wouldn't be sorted easily enough, every trait was generalized to the extreme, he just wasn't suited for any particular house.

And with the sorting of houses came other trivialities, competitions and prejudice. The whole thing made me want to sigh, and recluse myself back in the tiny apartment above the wand shop.

The only reason the signature of the founding four could have lasted over a millennium, was if the castles magic had been tied directly to their own. Interestingly enough, only the Soul Arts could leave that kind of mark.

Walking toward the black carriages I was standing between the two Prewett twins who were enthusiastically babbling about places they could show me and all the things we could explore. I gave Lee a faint smile when he rolled his eyes and choose a carriage. Just before we got in though I caught sight of the beast pulling the carriage.

I was immediately reminded of a dog I had once seen. The beast had been skeletal, almost dead with malnutrition. His fur had fallen off, subjected to mange, and he was left a hairless black thing. His eye had been enormous in the proximately boned face.

These creatures had no eyes. The blackened pits set into the vaguely muzzle like face were empty. That tore at my heart in a more agonizing way than anything I had ever seen. Their bodies were black, leather-like skin covering it's skeletal structure. Grey boned horns curled, two on each head, from just above the eye sockets. On their backs wings reminiscent of a dragons were folded neatly.

The creatures magic was most unusual as well.

Heedless of the Twins and Lee following me. Ignoring the fourth year students, Malfoy, Nott and Zambini, who had accompanied us off the train, altogether. I approached.

I faintly recognized a sharp intake of breath and a half asked question behind me, before Lee shushed them all.

I walked until I stood directly in front of the larger one on the carriage we would be riding in. Taking extra measures of caution, in case these beasts were temperamental, I forced myself into a bow. With my body angled toward the ground I looked dead into the eyeless face and waited. Not a moment later the creature dropped not one knee, but both forelegs, to the ground in front of me.

I relaxed my stance and moved to it's side with a hand stretched toward it's flank. I shivered when I ran my hand across the leathery expanse. His aura was a deep grey, almost black. It flickered, almost as if it were torn between this pale and some other. And the feeling….

It was cold, not the soulless draining cold of a dementor, but not the clean cold of a natural winter either. More a distinct numbness. It wasn't unpleasant, but it was uncomfortable. After on last stroke, from the base of it's bone tail to it's ribcage, I withdrew my hand and walked back to my group. Careful not to turn my back until I was at least four feet away.

A slight blond girl had appeared in front of me before I reached the six of them though. I stopped inches from her but she did not look up at me. Instead her light, light, grey eyes were unfocused and looking to my side. Uncertain of what to do I looked at the Twins, they seemed to be confused, Lee just looked thoughtful.

The girl was young, she had an oval face classic English nose, but her eyes, though unfocused seemed ageless. Hers was the type of fey beauty men remarked upon, the kind of looks that would always be in fashion. She had taken though her ordinary face, pale colorless blond hair, wise eyes and miniature features and coupled it with the extreme.

Her clothing was the uniform robe with house trim, but that was where the compliance to code ended. She had a necklace that seemed to be made of thousands upon thousands of thread pieces knotted and hanging down from a black cord wound round her neck. Her hair hung around her face in a pale halo of ringlets interspersed with thin braids and leaves from various plants. One her feet were two flat, sandal like shoes, one creamy yellow and the other orange.

The cuff around her ear lobe denoted her heritage as a pureblood, but did not excuse the eccentricity. The cuff even appeared to be made of some sort of cork, of all things.

"Death. Threstles. Some of them say death is a burden. They were given to those of us who have seen someone taken. The irony is _they_ are creatures of light" The little blonds voice was sharp, but her expression never faltered, as I turned my killing-curse eyes back to her examining her face, I thought over what she said.

The uncomfortable sensation could be attributed to them being of the Light, when I was definitely of the Dark. But… Their aura was blackish and grey. I'd observed every type of aura, colors and smells, and the darker, the more foggy the aura, the more Dark the affinity.

The girl didn't seem to be stupid though. Her voice seemed confidant, assured. And obviously she could see the beasts.

And then my eyes widened and I looked at her again. Her eyes looked into my own this time, and they were no longer grey. Her eyes were black, solidly so, no white and no shadow denoting a pupil. Abyss', deep and cold. She had a shrewd awareness now etched on her fey features. And so intense, as if she was reading my soul.

Eyes like my own. Eyes like Auggie.

Other.

She was no simple witch. And her words were not simple either. I understood what she was saying, and asking.

She was saying, in a roundabout way, that Threstles would only appear to one who had seen death and those that regarded the Thrstles as a gift to the grieving were the light one, not the beasts. She was also asking if I could see that for myself.

In her own way she was giving me a hint, admittedly one I had already known of, but vaguely. She was saying that Dumbledore would find out my leanings towards dark but would try to reform me, or tame me. By taking in a purely dark creature, even taming it down and using it as a pack beast, he was showing his willingness to use any resource.

I locked eyes only long enough to nod. And suddenly her face was averted and the seemingly light grey was back in her unfocused gaze.

"Seeress" I whispered.

A small smile twisting and then disappearing on her face was my answer.

"Would you share my carriage miss?" I said indicating the carriage before us. Looking at the deep blue trim of her robes edge I noted with amusement I seemed to draw Ravenclaws. I wonder if it was telling.

Of all the houses I truly would not end up in grfyndor, no matter my courage or stupidity in certain circumstances. That was a house of solely Light and Neutral magic's. My most likely, though not nearly suitably perfect of course, choices were Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Both Dark and Neutral houses, sometimes a Ravenclaw had Light blood, but not so often as Hufflepuff.

The carragie was a wide space, able to fit six apparently, but only myself, the Seeress and the original three I'd met entered the carriage. I found myself facing the twins and the Egyptian, with the tiny blond on my left side and the window on the right.

"So, do you just attract the most attractive of the house members, or do you have a plan?" Gred, I think the twins name was, commented. A calculating glint in his eye belied the benign statement, and his twins head tilted slightly.

Ignoring the stares of the others I turned my face to the Seeress, having no answer that would satisfy them. The truth was that it was best to collect, as he accused, the better of the brood. I didn't know for sure if that was what I was doing myself though, I'd not actively sought anyone out at all.

"My name is Eli, Heir of House Ollivander. It's a pleasure to meet you." I said smoothly. My whole name seemed to pretentious for the little blond, whom had already helped me. Besides, she might take the obvious route and think I was a born Ollivander.

An indignant huff came from the opposite side of the carriage but amusement flitted across the blonds face.

Her expressions, beyond the dazed and dreamy mask she seemed to be fond of, flowed across her face like water. Nothing stayed long, but you could glimpse it, if you were quick enough.

"Luna Lycoris Lovegood. Heir of House Lovegood and De facto Heir of The House of Forsooth." She responded, ignoring the niceties of greetings.

A double Heiress. Granted De Facto Heir wasn't quite the same, it was the tittle given to second sons and daughters when no other options were available. She was regal enough and had the features of a pureblood, I was almost certain, but her bearing was more casual.

I gave her a nod, and turned my attention to gazing from the carriage window out onto the castle grounds. The rest of the ride was relatively silent.

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><p><strong>StarGuide2011 <strong>


	9. A Not Very Surprising Sorting

**A/N:**

Updated 11/19/13

Still revising some chapters but looking forward to continuing, I still have my old outline and some new ideas, we'll see where it goes.

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><p>Thankfully the ride in the coach didn't take so long that small talk ran out, mostly I simply asked after classes the others were taking and more socially acceptable concepts. Let it not be said that an heir of house Ollivander could be left wanting in any of the more formal social graces.<p>

The idle talk continued until, with a final shuddering of the carriage wheels, we had arrived at the castle gates.

From what the others said of their own experience first year I was bit jealous of not riding up the castle in the first year boats. It sounded like a wonderfully magical way to catch sight of Hogwarts for the first time.

The castle was a magnificent sight to behold from afar but it was another matter altogether to look upon it and imagine living behind the beautiful walls. The stones did look aged and the turrets were sloped a bit, but the beauty that came from the weathered look was still enchanting.

I found myself more thankful than when I first stepped onto the crowded platform at Kings Cross, and certainly more grateful than the anger I'd held towards Auggie when he first told me of what his intentions were.

But upon entering the great hall I found myself in front of a stern witch who was dressed in a severely conservative silver robe. She was dressed in robes of both great quality and simplicity, the point was clear this was not a woman who bandied about her station, but took a simpler pride in it.

She also looked very much like someone who didn't tolerate nonsense.

With her silvery hair tightly bound on her head I could plainly see the cuff in her ear. It was a thick solid looking metal, obviously something she took pride in because the glint of setting sunlight light had it ablaze with a glittering shine, obviously well kept.

Taking just a moment to analyze her figure and look at the colors swirling around her body I was suitably impressed. The dove white with thin bands of teal formed a loose haze around her body, at least eight inches on all sides, and was moving statically in diagonal patterns. She also smelled very strongly of lemon grass and another herb I could hardly detect.

She wasn't the most powerful or aged woman id seen wondering the streets of Diagon, Nocturne and the other alleys, but she was assuredly not a push over either.

Her eyes flashed blue fire as I finished my thoughts and I found myself wondering what in the Morgana's name I had done. I hastily checked my Occulemancy shields on the chance she was reading my thoughts and found them as secure as they had always been, layers of steel and deceit crafted into the ideal defense.

My heart constricted in my chest as I was brought back sharply to the facts of life at Hogwarts, no matter what Miss Lovegood had said, this was a school run by the light. And I, with this fierce matron scowling down on me, so clearly did not belong within its walls.

But before I could voice any question, perhaps even a plea to return home immediately, she had begun speaking, her voice as severe as her demeanor suggested.

"My name is Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress and Head of House Gryffindor. And you, Mr. James, since you do not yet have a house designation, will follow me to the first years and be sorted as if this were, is, your first day at Hogwarts." But she continued even as she began walking away. "As you should have been at age elven."

Being patronized is one of my greatest pet peeves, and my anger my greatest failing.

Thus it's inevitable that I had to respond.

Carefully of course.

"And I do regret coming to the _magnificent _school of Hogwarts so late in my education" I began not fighting hard to push real awe into my voice, "I had other interests I had to pursue, Augustine is mentoring me in Wandlore and Craft, He felt it was his duty to have his Heir come to school as thoroughly learned as possible"

And with as much other knowledge as could be crammed into a Childs head as possible, of course, but she needn't about know that.

The Matron, Headmistress, looked down at me with softer eyes, "I do understand Mr. James but you would do well to understand this is not traditional in the least, students have been pulled out of school earlier to begin a learned apprenticeship but it is not highly condoned the opposite way."

And again with a gimlet eye on me we were on our way once more.

The room she led me to was filled with a group of wide eyed children all the glowing shades of the rainbow, even a whiff of different and subtle smells here and there of the more powerful children.

I couldn't help but over hear some of the nervous chatter around me. It was all to do with the sorting and all the outrageous things they might be forced to do to prove they were in one house or another.

Some theory's made more sense than others, but I was sure how battling a Troll would let it be decided if you were in one house of the other, maybe it would depend on how quickly you won?

McGonagall then called everyone to attention and explained what would be happening much to the relief of everyone, and began leading us toward the great hall. When we entered the huge room, easily large enough to fit the whole of Diagon alley in it, I immediately felt the stares and heard the whispers rise from all four tables.

Ignoring them all I stared contently up at the enchanted ceiling and waited for my name. The book 'Hogwarts: A History' didn't do justice the powerful charm work and simple elegance plied into the very rafters to make such a realistic night sky.

"James, Eli" Rang out across the hall before I'd realized.

I walked forward to the small three legged stool and sat down with grace, as much as I could muster, it seemed everyone in the Hall was looking right at me.

McGonagall placed the old hat on my head and I waited for something to happen.

"Now, now boy, lets not get impatient, older students are such a _joy _to sort" The sarcastic voice, that must be the hat, rumbled in my head.

'_so you are sentient?' _I thought to the hat.

"Merely enchanted headwear Mr. James, the thoughts of all four founders pulled together into a hat. No if we're done with the questions I'm going to sort you now" the voice said.

I was burning with curiosity about how the hat had been created, but I let my thoughts quiet, only asking one of my many questions.

'_Do you speak of what you find in someone's head?'_

" I do not Mr. James, Salazar saw to that, not wanting every child who ever put me on to have their secrets banded about, especially since all his own sprogs would eventually wear me. Now be silent and let me take a look at what you're made of"

The hat was quiet for a few moments and then began a running dialog, much like someone who thought out loud.

"Hmm, yes, yes, a burning drive is there, the ambition, enough to choke on, all very focused though, revenge or just spite really. You want to better yourself, but it's not really for yourself now is it? All for your Dark Lady, really.

No Slytherin is no good for you, you'd be disgusted in the first week and a murderer by the end of a month.

But you are clearly Dark, to the depths of your bones and deep in your soul. The whole of the lighter houses would be uncomfortable with you; you'd never have a real ally with them.

No real thirst for knowledge though, and if I were a different sort of hat, that would be that and you would be sorted right into Gryffindor, where someone with your courage ought to go, but it's a new age and to do that would turn out very poorly indeed.

Better be RAVENCLAW!" the hat shouted the last bit aloud and finished in my head once more "Though I hope not to regret it."

I took of the hat and with a sharp bow to McGonagall I walked toward a smug looking Miss Lovegood and the very happy Twins from the train even as my robes trimmed themselves in blue and my Hogwarts crest became one of bronze and blue with an eagle emblem

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><p><strong>StarGuide2013<strong>


	10. Out Crimson Eyes

**A/N:**

Yes, this bit actually matters for the story. Yes I like multiple POV's.

See though! I _**AM** _updating gain!

Updated 11/21/13

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><p>It had started years ago, in the middle of November in the bustling alley filled with Holiday shoppers.<p>

He had been walking down the alley dressed in his finest robes, dove gray trimmed in what seemed to be real silver. He was dressed to impress because first impressions were often times everything, and coming off as something less than impressive was not acceptable.

The meeting he'd just left in Knockturn Alley was fresh in his mind, absorbing much of his thought. He was thinking about the subtle hints the French wizard had made towards an alliance of sorts, the kind of dirty quick deal that made sure if his endeavors failed the French would be in no way implicated by the fires of an English failure. It wasn't the most trustworthy offer, nor even the most generous offer he'd received recently, but it was the kind of offer he could bring himself to admire.

Picking up the delicate nuances of the conversation with the French Ministers assistant had almost been fun. Watching wizards and witches alike sweat and trip over themselves in his presence, watching them walk the delicate line of _just pushy_ for negotiation and _terror_ for self preservation always put him in a good mood.

And he'd been preoccupied.

Not watching where his steps had been taking him he was left wondering down the cobble streets past the Ollivander's Wand-maker shop.

And suddenly he had been slammed into from the side, almost tipping his balance, almost causing him to fall.

He'd reacted in an instant, his wand falling down his sleeve, released from his forearm holster letting the slick wood fall directly into his waiting hand. Spinning to the side he saw a child skidding backwards from the impact and he'd released a snarl.

The child stared at his robe's hem and trembled slightly as the older man looked him over. The boy had curling black hair, trailing down his neck and falling from his forehead to cover his alabaster white skin. Hs robes, while not nearly as finely made as his own, were of good quality pale blue cloth.

After taking in the sight of the child who'd accosted him the man relaxed his stance and lowered his wand, not releasing his grip on the wood entirely, and spoke to the boy.

"You would do well to watch where you're tromping boy, not everyone will be as understanding as I'm being by not cursing you where you stand" He couldn't quite keep the malice out of his voice though.

The child looked up then and the man felt his own features involuntarily twitch in surprise at the cool green eyes that met his own eyes. Enchanting. Eyes as cold and colored as the killing curse. He'd _never _heard of a blood line trait like that, and he prided himself on knowing everything he could about the wizarding history and familial traits passed through the generations.

The child's own gaze widened and he was stiff as his eyes ran up and down the man's own frame, seeming to dart fro inches from his own body all the way up to his eyes. For a moment the man was afraid his glamour's had shifted, but the child spoke then.

"You… You're so bright! The colors…. And you smell like _snakes_" The boy sad, his breath was coming fast and hard, he seemed overwhelmed.

While it wasn't something he was unused to, it was startling given his current appearance. But the boy wasn't looking at him, he almost…almost seemed to be looking at "You're seeing my aura aren't you boy?" he asked, almost excited at the thought.

While there wasn't much magic _couldn't _do, something's were inherent to only certain people, blood lines and families and certain circumstances. Reading an aura was a very rare and valuable gift, one he him self certainly didn't posses the talent and he'd only meet two who did in all of his long life so far.

It seemed he'd found a third, and a very you third aura reader at that.

The child nodded imperceptibly.

The man recovered enough of himself to ask a question he'd always wondered about, but never had much inclination to seek the answer for before.

"What do you see?"

Knowing ones aura wasn't really an advantage, but it was ore academic curiosity. After all most famous witches and wizards through the ages had had their own auras recorded in books and biographies that he'd found. He had always wondered how his own compared.

That seemed to have been the right question because the boy gave a large smile and began talking at a ridiculous pace.

"It's a _solid _aura" he said like solid should mean something to him "and its, its very similar to granite really, its all one color really but its such a stormy grey and it seems like t has silver and spikes of black and shimmers of white. Almost like it changes colors depending on the light, except it cant be effected by sunlight really. It's enormous, the biggest I've ever seen and it doesn't really move, it seems like its steady and more or less stable. But the smell… it smells like snakes, not dirty or anything, just… musty and cool, like snake skin"

And then the child was blushing and quiet.

The man almost smiled. Interesting indeed. He'd have to do a little research, from the barest amount of books available on the subject, to find out what it all meant himself, but for now…

"I will speak with you again, child" he said softly and turned to walk down the alley once more.

It wouldn't do to loiter around the alley asking a lone child questions. Especially not with as long as his glamour's had been on today, they could fail with a moments notice.

Now all thoughts of the French had been pushed from his mind and he was occupied with thoughts of the boy, who even now, seemed to have remembered just why he'd been running full tilt out of the alley.

If he had truly wanted to he could have simply looked in the boys mind, found his name and home and his deepest essence and been done with all the mystery. But he found he didn't want to go about it that way. He felt that this was something he'd need to work for.

Once he was back in his own manor, far from prying eyes, the Dark Lord dropped the bland glamour he'd worn to walk normally through the alley and thought, settling into his favorite chair infront of the parlor fire with Nagani stretching across his lap.

He wanted to know so much more about this fascinating child.

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><p><strong>StarGuide2013<strong>


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